How Kirks Die
by May Eve
Summary: "It's the Kirk curse, Bones." Friendship, or McKirk if you squint. A quick, sad/sweet thing.


_A/N: Just a quick, sad/sweet thing that churned itself out between study sessions. _

How Kirks Die

It was a quiet day on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ when Captain Kirk flipped through to a new message on his PADD and went deathly still. Finally, he reached for his comm. and pressed, hard, "Bones." Those who had not picked up on his sudden stillness, started paying attention then – no one had heard that tone from Kirk before.

Standing up, he drew all their eyes effortlessly, "Spock, you have the conn for the next fifteen minutes. I'll be in the office." Thus Jim Kirk retreated solemnly into the tiny cubicle of office space designated for urgent business when the Captain could not leave the bridge entirely. Within a minute, Dr McCoy had appeared, looking breathless and almost frantic as he scanned the bridge for his friend and then sped for the cubicle's sound-proofed walls. For a moment, he vanished as Kirk had done when he entered, both of them slipping behind the frosted plexiglass that covered the first two feet from the door and the bottom half of the walls all around.

Like Kirk, he froze in that first sheltered stretch, took two steps forward, and dropped from view – though he seemed to have dropped to his knees rather than slumping into a chair. Kirk's head appeared for a moment and then fell again. They could not see, but those close to the pair could well imagine the scene from the grief in Jim Kirk's face. The Captain's forehead dropping to rest against McCoy's broad shoulders, arms coming up around his own as his lips moved softly, explaining the latest horror, the most recent tragedy to strike him.

In the office, McCoy sighed soundlessly, holding Jim loosely about the shoulders and trying not to let his own despair show under Jim's quiet, "Sam is dead, Bones." He felt Jim shake his head a little against his shoulder as though he sensed the denial on his lips.

"Oh, Jim."

Jim raised his head at last, enough for the observers to pick out his overbright eyes but not read his lips.

"I can't say it's that surprising, Bones, I think that's the worst. He went down defending his own people from some spaceway robbers and all of them made it away in an escape pod – except him, of course." His lips trembled then and Bones squeezed his shoulders, his own eyes bright.

"It's the Kirk curse, Bones."

"That's _bull_—"

"Don't, Bones," and Jim looked so sad and noble and _resigned_, McCoy could hardly stand it. "This is how Kirks die. Young and brave and alone. We can't even help ourselves." He slipped from his own chair at last and they curled together on the floor, backs to the frosted plexiglass. They were silent for some time as McCoy bit his tongue against a tirade and Kirk just brooded.

"It's cruel, Bones. I wouldn't mind going down saving my ship, but—" He looked at Bones then, "I don't want to die so soon, Bones. We have so much to _do_ and I just – I might be okay with it, but it's so _awful_ how we leave people behind. I couldn't stand to do to anyone else what Dad did to Mom; you remember how she went flying into that star our last year at the Academy. I—I never told you, but I hacked the feed from her shuttle and she—" He choked and McCoy's eyes slipped closed, almost despairing.

"She was smiling, Bones. She was smiling like everything she'd ever loved was just waiting for her. If Aurelan didn't have the kids, I'd be even more worried about her – she and Sam are – _were _so in love. I just, I know I'll probably go out that way and I don't want—"

Bones finally hushed him, pulling him over so they were squashed together like fallen dominos, "I'm not gonna let that happen, Jim. There's no curse, or I'm gonna beat it, you got that?" Jim didn't agree, but some of the tension went out of his spine and he let his head flop low on Bones' shoulder.

"We'll call Aurelan tonight, alright?" Jim finally smiled a little, turning his face up to Bones' faith, a flower to the sun, "Okay, Bones."

It wasn't hope, but it was something close.


End file.
